


A Promise to M

by LadyRa



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRa/pseuds/LadyRa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As M lies dying in Bond's arms, she makes him promise her something. As Bond tries to honor her request, he discovers a black cat, magic, and an unexpected future he could have never imagined.</p><p>
  <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise to M

**Author's Note:**

> Starts at the end of Skyfall, but AU for the new Q, well, okay AU for a lot of stuff. LOL.  
> DISCLAIMER: Glory and praise to the creators and actors for making such fun characters to play with. You guys rock!!  
> FEEDBACK: I love friendly feedback. I also appreciate people pointing out typos and continuity gaffes to me, as they are BAD! I have no patience for negative feedback. I do this for fun and I do it for FREE, so if you aren't enjoying the story, channel your inner adult and use the back button.   
> THANKS: Speaking of betas, thanks to: Susan, Annie B, and Ruth for Brit-picking.

As M lay dying in his arms, she grabbed at his hand.  "Bond, promise me."  She could barely talk, her eyes already glazing over with her impending death.

James had loved her and hated her in equal measure but she had been such a seemingly indestructible force in his life he could barely conceive that, despite the evidence of her bleeding out in front of him, she could die. "Anything," he swore.  "What do you need me to do?"

It could be anything, not that it mattered, as James would see it done.  M might want him to assassinate someone, or remove sensitive information from her office or home.  

"The dog…" she panted.  "In office…"

James' eyebrows went up.  That stupid ceramic dog?  What the hell was she on about?  It was typical of her to be cryptic even on her deathbed.  He squeezed her fingers, trying to get her to focus.

"Protect.  Bond, you must…he…they'll come for him…protect…Q.  It won't be like…like last time.  Waited too long…I can't…you…protect." 

She couldn't possibly be this worried about that ridiculous dog?  And protect Q?  What the hell?  He went with the only thing he might be able to reassure her about.  "Q's dead, M.  Boothroyd is dead.  He doesn't need anyone to protect him."

"Not…real Q…Bond…oh God," she hissed, fury on her face at her inability to adequately communicate.  

"What do you mean, not real?"  

"She…" M said, although the word felt like something more, like it was missing syllables.   

"M," he said firmly, feeling desperate for clear directions, afraid he'd be unable to fulfill this last request of hers.  "All I've got to go on is your damn china dog.  Give me something to use, god damn it."

She tried, James had to give her that, as if she were trying to reach back from the gates of hell, her mouth opening and closing, her fingers tight on his, but then her hand grew lax, and she breathed her last.

He held her for a long time, shattered at her death, filled with sorrow and rage at how she'd treated Silva, how she'd brought this whole fucking thing on herself and England for being such a cold-hearted bitch.  At least Silva was dead, too, and James considered really disappearing this time.  He could do it; he could live under the radar and slowly drink himself to death, but his own curiosity wouldn't let him.  He needed to at least try to find out what M had wanted him to do, and that meant he had to go back to find that damn dog.

* * *

MI6 was a disaster; the computer systems had been all but destroyed by Silva, certainly compromised.  Gareth Mallory was doing his best to create some order, but he wasn't the new M yet, and he wasn't like she had been, able to stalk into a room and demand instant obedience.  He saw James, though, and gestured him over.  "Bond, I didn't realize you were back."

If things were working the way they ought to be, Mallory would have known, he should have known; just one more indication of how unsecure everything was.  "Who's the new Q?  Is there a new M?" he snapped, surprised there wasn't someone clearly in charge of the minions.  What the hell would happen to any double-0s out in the field?

It took James a moment to understand the expression on Mallory's face in response to his question, but he finally deciphered it as desire, this raw avaricious need that made James want to take a step away.  But his training held him in place, waiting for the man to speak.

"Ah, that's the question, isn't it?" Mallory said, his voice thick, as if he was in the middle of sex, and James wondered, hoped actually, if he'd been drugged.  "Unprecedented, this is.  I will, of course, find him."

"Find Q?"  Him?  M's mad death ramblings came to mind.  "Find who?"  He reached out and grabbed the man's arm, giving him a shake.  "Mallory!  Do you need to go to Medical?"

"What?"  Mallory seemed to snap back to himself and the fever left his eyes.  "Sorry.  It's been a long couple of days.  What were you asking?"

"Who's in charge of Q branch right now?  Are there agents out in the field?"  

"Yes, right," Mallory said, focusing even more.  "Tanner's assisting agents.  Boothroyd's second is holding the fort until the new Q is chosen."

He was hiding something, but James couldn't imagine what in the world it would be.  There were always secrets, secrets within secrets, but this felt different.  "What's going on?" James insisted.

Mallory was suddenly looking at him with sharp appraising eyes.  "If you don't already know, then it's nothing that concerns you, Bond."  Then, almost to himself, he added in clear frustration, "If only M hadn't been so damn secretive about him."

Apparently James wasn't the only person trying to find the mystery 'him' M had been alluding to.  It made retrieving the dog his first mission objective.  And given the chaos around him, it shouldn't be hard to rummage through the wreckage of M's office to find the damn thing.

* * *

Alec slipped into the chair across from him, after having first scoped out the restaurant for any possible dangers in a replica of James' own security precautions.  "What the fuck's going on?" Alec snapped.  "MI6 is falling apart.  I know it took a hit, but there's no excuse for what's happening."

"I know," James said, equally frustrated.

"And I'm killing the next person who looks like they want to have sex, or looking like they just had sex, right there in the fucking hallway.  It's damn creepy."

"You too?" James asked, remembering that odd look in Mallory's eyes.  He'd been giving it some thought and said, "I don't think it's about sex.  It was more like the look in an addict's eye, desperate for his next fix."  Not a look he expected to see in Gareth Mallory's eyes; the man had been in politics for decades and had an excellent poker face.

"You're right," Alec agreed, "and I'm still killing them.  And who is this mysterious person they all seem to be looking for?  Well, not all of them, but everyone above a certain clearance level." 

That was an interesting observation.  Perhaps if James had stayed longer he might have been able to draw some additional conclusions of his own.

"And they're all quite annoyed with M for keeping whatever it is a secret," Alec continued.  "No one's wasting any breath saying good things about the old battle-axe."

"Typical, though," James said fondly, "that she'd take some massive secret to the grave with her.  She's probably laughing from her throne in hell."

Alec grinned at James.  "You're too right about that."  He perused the menu for a moment, as if they didn't eat there every time they were both in London.  It might be a more common occurrence as all the agents not currently in the field had been grounded until more systems were up and running.

James had toyed with the idea of sharing what M had said with Alec but had decided to keep it to himself, at least for the time being.  He trusted Alec with his life, but if both of them were stumbling around trying to uncover M's secrets, there was a higher chance of being noticed.

When their drinks were delivered, Alec lifted his in the air.  "To M, may she rest in peace, assuming that's what she wants.  I'm guessing she'd consider it a curse."

James smirked and clinked his glass against his friend's.

* * *

Once James was safely home, he pulled out the piece of paper that had been inside the ceramic dog, now in white, red, and blue shards on James' kitchen floor, all safely shoved into a corner with his booted foot so he wouldn't step on them in the middle of the night.  He'd clean it up later.

He thought about something Alec had said during lunch, about how MI5 was tracking four well-known assassins that had crossed into England's borders since M's death.  She had said 'he' would need protection, but protection from multiple assassins?  Not even the PM got that sort of attention.  But she had said they would come for 'him'.

The paper was in code, and James laid it flat on the table next to a pad of paper and a pen.  This would be easier on the computer, and even easier taking it to the cryptologists, but James couldn't risk it.  

Over the next few hours he worked on breaking it, but it wasn't until after three in the morning, his eyes red and aching with the strain of staring at numbers and letters, that he broke it.  He found himself looking at what could only be GPS coordinates and another string of six digits that he assumed would get him into whatever was at the coordinates.

He wanted to leave immediately, but James had to sleep.  He'd been up for days, other than a few short cat naps, and he'd be no good to anybody in the shape he was in.  Tomorrow would have to be soon enough.  He committed the coordinates and code to memory and then burnt the solution with a match, watching the paper flame, and then curl up in embers until he was holding the very last little piece which he finally let fall into an ashtray.  He held onto the original paper just in case he'd missed something and took it into the bedroom with him, resting it under his gun, so if someone came for it they'd find James, instead, ready to shoot holes in them until they went away or died.

After all, it was only a matter of time until someone realized that James had been with M when she died, and that he was the one who might hold the secrets they were looking for.

* * *

It was Alec who broke in hours later, but he waved James' gun away, rolling his eyes.  "I still don't know what the fuck is going on, but one of those assassins is heading your way, so get up and get dressed and then tell me what the fuck is going on."

James did as told, slipping the paper into his pocket, his gun in his holster, grabbed his laptop and, then, as the front door was being picked open, he and Alec slipped out through his bolt hole in the master bedroom closet, down to where his car waited, and they slipped away into the streets of London in less than a minute.

After driving for thirty minutes and sure that they weren't being followed, James pulled over and he and Alec swept the car for any bugs, Alec patiently not saying a word.  Once assured that they weren't being monitored, James put the coordinates into the car's GPS system.

"Will you tell me what the hell is going on?  And what, exactly, are we looking for?" Alec asked, finally cracking.

"Whoever that 'him' is that everyone else is fruitlessly looking for."

"And somehow you have coordinates?" Alec said with a satisfied smile.  "Ah. M?"  
  
"M.  They were in the damn dog.  That's about all I got from her before she died, other than he'd need to be protected and that they'd be coming for him.  And something indecipherable about how it wouldn't be like last time."

"Did she mean the assassins?" Alec asked, letting out a short whistle.  "Who is it?"

"I don't know."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think anyone knows, including the assassins.  I've been keeping tabs on the MI5 chatter and no one, including the assassins, seems to have a clear destination in mind except somewhere around London.  I'm guessing whoever was heading your way was looking for information.  Is this destination of ours one of M's safe houses?"

James shook his head.  "No.  I know all those coordinates and these are different."  He glanced at the navigation system in the car.  "It looks like we're heading to Tunbridge Wells."

Alec scowled at the map.  "Really?  What the hell is in Tunbridge Wells?"

"A mystery, apparently."

"Apparently," Alec agreed, sounding intrigued.

James' phone rang and he quickly answered it, with a look at Alec.  "Bond."

"Bond," Mallory said, sounding breathless enough to set off all of James' instincts, and he instantly turned the car around so he was heading in the other direction.  Fortunately, they were far enough away from their destination so no one could easily pick it amongst the hundreds of cities and towns in this direction.  But James hated to think he'd narrowed it down for them at all.  "Where are you?"

"Heading westbound on the M25," James answered honestly.  "Why?"

"Where are you going?" came the suspicious response.

"I'm heading back to London," James lied, putting the phone on speaker so Alec could listen in.

There was a long pause.  "Bond, this is very important.  Did M tell you anything before she died?"

He shot another look at Alec and said, "Not a thing.  She was already dead when I got to her."

"Damn it," Mallory snapped.  "Do you have a list of her safe houses?  Of her residences?"

"I have a list of her safe houses, and I'll be glad to send them to you right now if you want them.  I can pull over."

"Yes, please.  How about her residences?"

James pulled off the side of the road and reached for his laptop.  "Hold on," he said and muted the phone.  "They'll know exactly where we are."

"So we pull out the batteries and disengage the GPS on the phones and laptop," Alec said, putting words to action as he slid his phone from his pocket and started to break it down.  

"I have some burner phones in the boot if we need them," James said, turning on the laptop.

"Always prepared, James, one of the things I like best about you," Alec said with a grin.  "Open it up."

James pulled the appropriate lever while he continued to look for the encrypted files to send to Mallory.  Once found, he attached them to an e-mail.  There wasn't any reason to keep them safe now.  They were M's places, and she didn't need them anymore.  He unmuted the phone, "Sending now.  And no, the only residence I knew of hers was the old Townhouse."  That was another lie.

There was a long sigh.  "It is imperative that you return to London now," Mallory finally said.

"What's going on?"  James knew whatever he heard would be bullshit, but he wanted to know what lies the man would spew.

"There's been a security breach and all the double-0 agents have been compromised.  Do you know where Trevelyan is?"

"No.  Haven't seen him since I got back.  And I'll be back as soon as I can."

"See that you are," Mallory bit out.

James hung up and then handed his phone to Alec to rip apart.  He started working on his laptop, finding the GPS setting and shutting it off.  Knowing it wouldn't be enough, he continued to take the thing apart as he'd been shown by Boothroyd in case he ever needed to get lost for a while.  He'd miss the old man.

In five minutes the back seat was littered with phone and laptop components, there were burner phones charging in turn, and James was headed east again.

"It won't take them long to figure out we've gone off the grid against direct orders," Alec said.  "And then they'll try to track the car."

"You want to get out?" James asked.

"Not on your life," Alec said with a grin.

* * *

The sign said High Weald's, and the coordinates were leading them directly into the woods.  They'd gone through the town, what there was of it, and were now on the other side.

"I'm starting to feel like this is a last practical joke of M's to get us thrown in prison for a wild goose chase," James remarked.

Alec's face was screwed up as he looked at the woods around him.  "Who would live in here?  Is anyone even allowed to live in here?"

James had no idea.  He doggedly followed the coordinates until they ran out of road.  "It's a mile that way," James said pointing into the dense woods ahead.  "How deep were these woods?  I don't remember it being this big on the map."

"It's like we're suddenly in Fangorn," Alec said with a grin, clearly enjoying himself.

"What?" 

Alec just sighed at him.  "You have got to read some of the classics.  You're an embarrassment."

"What is it?" James asked, only wanting to know if it was pertinent in any way.

"Fangorn was a magical forest in Middle Earth in the Tolkien books, and it was where the Ents lived, these tree shepherd things."

"Magical," James said distastefully, peering ahead.  And clearly not pertinent. 

"You say it like it's a dirty word," Alec said with a short laugh.  "Besides, I'm not saying this is magic.  There's got to be some underground bunker around here everyone's forgotten about.  We're not about to find the ancient forgotten home of the elves."

James grunted in dissatisfaction.  "This is odd, even for M."

"I'll grant you that," Alec said, handing James one of the phones.  Both phones had got enough of a charge to be of some use, and Alec put the coordinates into his phone.  "Okay, all set."

James checked his weapon, secreted a few other weapons on his person, knowing Alec had done the same, and then he drove the car fifty yards back to a spot that would, at least, keep it hidden from any aerial surveillance.

He jogged back to Alec, and the two of them moved forward until they were standing in the exact location the coordinates listed.  James looked around at the forest surrounding them, and then started to scuff at the ground, removing the leaves and other debris in hopes of uncovering the aforementioned underground bunker.  All he found was dirt.

"Is this really where she sent you?" Alec asked, incredulous.

James hated to admit it, but he said, "She left me something in code, and this is what I came up with."

"So in other words, we could be in absolutely the wrong place," Alec said dryly.

"Yes, we could," James said, "but we both know it's unlikely.  I don't make mistakes like that."

"We could still head back to London," Alec said.  "You could tell them you stopped to pick me up.  We'd be home for tea."

James didn't want to give up that easily.  "I have another number.  I expected it to be a code to get into a building."

"Are you going to show it to me in interpretive dance?"

"Shut up," James said.

Alec grinned unrepentantly but started pushing aside some of the detritus on the forest floor, doing his share of looking for a trap door of sorts.   
  
There was nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  James didn't understand it.  He knew he'd got it right.  He pulled out the original piece of paper and handed it to Alec.  "This is it."

"God, she was half barmy," Alec said as he gave it a quick perusal and handed it back.  "It's a good thing you shared her love of codes so she left me out of it.  If you need me to go somewhere, just tell me where it is, please, and none of this treasure map bullshit."

"For someone so familiar with Fangorn, or whatever the hell it was, I would think you'd love this stuff."

"Like you should talk," Alec scoffed.  "Your name is in the dictionary next to pragmatist."

"And who has more successful missions under his belt?" James taunted.

"The old man in the room," Alec teased back.  "I'll leave your record in the dust by the time I reach your venerable age."

"You're barely a year younger than me," James pointed out.  "And you haven't got a prayer in hell of beating any of my records." 

"Are you willing to admit that this was a red herring?" Alec asked.

For some reason, James was not willing at all.  A little embarrassed, but determined, he spoke the code number out loud.  Nothing happened.

Alec snickered in his general direction.  

Crouching, James laid the original paper on the ground, straightening out some of the wrinkles as best he could.  He watched it do nothing.  "Shit."

"Oh, I'm going to give you so much crap about this later," Alec said, now laughing at him.  "The great James Bond, grasping at magical straws."

And that was when the paper burst into flames and disintegrated into the ground.

Alec's laugh cut off.  "Did that just happen?"

"That just happened," James said.  He pulled his gun out.  "And someone's watching us."

Alec had his gun in hand as well, and he put his back to James'.  "We weren't followed."

"No, we weren't," James agreed.  "So that means someone was here already."

James felt a piercing pain in his head, gone as soon as it had begun, and he saw a picture of M, as if someone had placed a photo in his brain.  _"Did she send you?"_ a voice said.

"Did you hear that?" James said.

"Hear what?" Alec said.

James was afraid of that.  He was not only seeing pictures, he was hearing voices that no one else could hear.  "Yes," he said out loud.

"Yes, what?" Alec asked.

_"You are to be her replacement?"_

"I'm here to protect you, if you're who she was protecting."

_"Ah.  Then it begins.  I had hoped she would find the one I seek, but she waited too long, and now she is dead."_

"Where are you?"  And interesting…M had said something about waiting too long.  
  
"Who the hell are you talking to?" Alec demanded, turning around to gape at James.

James tapped his head.  "Someone's talking to me in here."

Alec's eyebrows almost went off his forehead.  "What?"

"Can you show yourself?"

 _"Look up,"_ the voice said, and James, with some dread, did.  Directly above them, draped along a thick branch of a tree, lay a huge black cat.  A jaguar, he thought, but there was something odd about it.

"Holy shit," Alec said, now staring up as well.  "Is that one of the British big cats?"

"Well, we are in Britain, and it is a big cat," James said.  "Hello," he said to the large cat.

 _"Hello,"_ the cat said back.

"Are you what I'm looking for?" James asked.  "Are you who M was protecting?"

 _"That silly letter name,"_ the cat said fondly.  James felt a ripple of laughter in his mind before the cat answered his question.  _"I am.  But she knew me in another form."_

James wondered, for a long moment, if he was dreaming.  Just in case, he asked Alec, "We are really here, right?  I'm not dreaming?"

"Really here," Alec said.  "Want me to punch you so you can be sure?"

James was tempted, but Alec threw a mean punch, and he didn't feel up to a mental conversation with a cat as it was, let alone with a broken nose.  "What form?" he asked, but blinked when he saw the cat wasn't there anymore.  

"This form," a voice came, and when James looked in that direction, he saw a young man with thick messy dark hair, slight of form, eyes large and solemn.  He was wearing black linen drawstring pants and a t-shirt with a faded, unrecognizable pattern on it.  James felt pulled to join him, a jerk through his solar plexus leaving him breathless.  He took a step in his direction, then another.

Alec grabbed his arm.  "What's going on?"

As if to answer Alec's question as expeditiously as possible, the man turned into the cat and then back into a human.  Or something that looked like a human.

"Put your guns away," the young man said.  "I will not harm you."  Before James could make a sound, he added, "And I know you will not harm me, or she would never have sent you to me."  He glanced around and then cocked his head for a moment as if listening intently.  "They are coming for me.  We must retreat for the time being."

"Who's coming for you?" James protested.  "I made sure no one could follow us."  

"Once you placed that paper on the ground, my position became clear to anyone who wishes to find me."

"What the hell does that mean?" Alec said sharply.  "Does he mean we've got MI6 and a handful of assassins on our tail?"

"And more.  They will come from everywhere.  An unbonded Sidhe that knows what I know, and has the skills that I have, will be sought by many.  Some will come to kill me.  But most will come in hopes of claiming me.  Always before, the one who had the key to reach me, the one you had, was the one coming to claim me.  This is unprecedented.  Even I am unsure what might happen."

James stared at him, his mind racing, searching desperately for something sane to explain all of this.  "Claim…what?  What are you talking about?"

A slightly sad smile graced the young man's lips although he didn't say anything.  "Come with me or leave.  Those are your choices."  He began to walk deeper into the forest.

"It is Fangorn!" Alec said exultantly, a wild smile on his face.  "Did you hear what he said?  He's a Sidhe."

"He's a she?"  He definitely looked like a he to James.  A very attractive he.

Alec rolled his eyes.  "No magic in your heart, James.  None.  S-I-D-H-E.  Sidhe.  You're Scottish, for God's sake, it's part of your country's mythology."  He started to follow the young man.

Filled with a sudden and fierce sense of territory and protectiveness, James pushed ahead of him, not wanting the two of them to be alone.  He spared a moment to wonder when the fuck Alec had learned anything about mythology.

Alec snorted behind his back.  "Ladies man here, James, remember?  I promise not to steal him from you."  Then, smirking, he said, "Although, there's always a first time, and I've never had sex with a mythical being."

He'd fucking bury Alec first.  Shallowly, so he could dig himself out, but he'd still bury him.  "How are you so easy with this?" James demanded.  "Mythical being?  There are no mythical beings.  And my country's mythology my arse."  Something butted into his leg and he looked down to find the cat brushing up against him.    

 _"Do you always ignore the truth right in front of you?"_ the cat asked in his head.

There was no rebuttal to that, unfortunately.  Now that the cat was so close, James could see that its fur was ratty in places, with a few patches of dark skin where it had worn off; even its whiskers were drooping.  "What's the matter with you?" he asked.

 _"My protector has died,"_ the cat said.

"Yeah, no," Alec protested.  "Either talk in my head, too, or turn human."

The cat obliged and James found himself walking next to the young man.  Against his volition he found himself stepping closer until their arms touched.  The urge to grab on, to protect, to keep, to own, was clamoring in James' brain, and only his vaunted control kept him from moving even closer.  

"Ah," the man said with a small smile.  "You feel it, don't you?  I'm glad.  Perhaps she did send you to me for more than one reason."

"I don't know what you're talking about," James insisted, because he didn't.  Especially anything about claiming.  "And you didn't answer my question.  What's wrong with you?  Your cat form was molting, and you don't look the picture of health yourself."  And he didn't; at close range his hair was a wild mess, there were dark patches under his eyes, and even though he was scruffy with a several days-old beard, the skin underneath was wan and lackluster.

From one moment to the next they were inside instead of outside.  When Alec let out a startled noise, James looked behind him and saw that the decoration on the walls looked exactly like the leaves in the forest, in fact…  He came to a stop and moved to the nearest wall, touching it.  They were leaves, actual leaves under his fingers, not decorations on wallpaper.  But there was wood flooring under his feet and a ceiling over his head, so they were inside.  "Did Fangorn do this?" he asked Alec over his shoulder.

As Alec snorted, the Sidhe laughed, saying, "You'll find no Ents here, though more's the shame for it.  This world could stand a few such caretakers."

James kept one eye on the walls waiting for the leaves to turn to wallpaper, but they never did.  "What does M dying have to do with your health?" James asked.

They turned a corner and entered a large room, large enough to hold some of the forest within it and still have a roof, ostensibly a roof, in any case, though it was mostly just one huge skylight.  There were at least twenty trees, couches and chairs interspersed among them.  The man walked to a small picnic table with a bench on each side, and James maneuvered himself to make sure he sat next to him.  He asked another question without getting an answer to his first.  "Did M ever come here?"  He couldn't see M finding this place comfortable.  She would have found it unnecessarily dramatic.

"No," the man said with a sad smile.  "That's not quite true.  She did come here, but I changed this place to suit her."

"What does that mean?"

The young man closed his eyes and from one moment to the next they were in a coffee shop, and then an executive office, and even, for a surprising moment, in M's old office before it had been destroyed by explosives.  Then it was an arboretum again and the man put his head on the table, breathing hard, his fists clenched.  "I do not have the strength to hold an illusion for long."  
  
"What's happening to you?"

"Let's back up a bit," Alec said.  "What are you?  And what do people want with you?"

"I am Q," the young man said.

James blinked at him.  "Q."

"Like quartermaster Q?" Alec asked, thankfully sounding as confused as James felt.

"Boothroyd was Q," James contradicted.  "He died, and now no one is Q."

The young man again closed his eyes, as if marshaling his strength for some new trick and then he stood up until he was standing before them, his arms outstretched.  "I am Q.  I have always been Q.  There has been someone referred to as Q, but all they held was the name.  I am their source, their data."  He was suddenly naked, but not in a sexually enticing way because his body was now lit up by…James had no other word to use but code.  It crawled along his skin, code and wires, like a living marquee.

James found himself inches from Q, although he didn't remember moving.  He touched Q's wrist, then slid his hand up his arm, his shoulder, and then he had his hands on Q's chest, the code now running over his fingers, and the back of his hands and wrists, as if he had merged with Q, as if whatever Q was, James was now a part of it.

He felt himself wrenched away, Alec standing between him and Q.  "I don't know what you are," he snapped, "but there is no way you are Q.  I worked with Boothroyd for years.  We both have, and he wasn't someone's puppet."

"Alec," James said, allowing him, only due to a years' long friendship, to stand between him and Q.  "Remember what he was like?  He'd talk to the computers almost as if asking them to cooperate and, when he got an answer, he'd say the strangest things, like, 'Remarkable machine,' as if it constantly surprised him."

"Boothroyd had an affinity for analyzing my information.  It made my protector even more formidable, something she needed as she refused to completely claim me."  He reached out for James and Alec, wrapping his fingers around their respective wrists.  "Feel with me."

James head snapped back and his eyes closed against the deluge of information swamping him.  It was more data than he knew what to do with, more than he could hope to interpret, but if he tried very hard he could hear snippets of conversations, and read pieces of correspondence, focus on a face or two, something akin to focusing on an individual raindrop in the middle of a downpour.  He forced his eyes open and saw that Alec's body, the parts of him not covered with clothes, was covered with code, just like Q's.  Just like James.

He closed his eyes again and stopped trying to understand any of it, just let it pour down on him like a waterfall, the pressure almost overwhelming to the point that he thought he might pass out.  He opened his eyes and focused on Q, and after a while he came to understand that Q was receiving all that information and was organizing it, dismissing what was irrelevant, accumulating other pieces until they became a coherent whole.  

It was Alec who pulled them apart, standing there, gasping for breath, glancing between Q and James with incredulous eyes, looking down at his hands as if, he too, had opened his eyes and seen the deluge of information crawling all over his skin.  It was still covering Q's body.

"Every Q?" Alec whispered.

"Every Q," Q agreed.  "And whoever has hold over me, has hold over MI6."

"What does that mean?" James demanded.  The idea of anyone having any hold over this man sat wrongly with him.

"Whoever holds me, becomes your M," Q explained.  "Which is why they are coming for me, to either claim me, in one way or another, in order to take their place of power, or they will come to kill me, so no one can harness what I am ever again."

"What exactly does this claiming look like?" Alec asked.

"Part of it is my choice, of course," Q said, as the code left his body and he was clothed again.  
  
James felt a pang of loss, even if it was easier to talk to Q without the light show.  "Part of it?"

"I can refuse entry to anyone who means Britain harm.  I serve Britain; I have for as long as I have been alive, which is a very long time."

"How long is that?" Alec asked.

Q just smiled at him, not deigning to answer, as if the answer would mean little to someone who was just a man.

"How long have you been Q?" Alec asked instead.

"Since the day I met Mansfield Cumming in my forest, as he looked for inspiration."

"He was the first M," Alec breathed out.  "He founded MI6, before World War II."

"Yes, he was.  We created it together."

"Why don't we know about you?" James insisted.  "Why aren't you at MI6 leading the department?  Surely you could do more good there than stuck out here."

"Yes, I could, but no one, not even Mansfield, would accept all that I am."  He stared at James, moving very close to him.  "To fully claim me, you must surrender yourself fully to me."

James felt an instantaneous resistance to that idea; surrender didn't go hand-in-hand with being a double-0 agent.

"And if they don't fully claim you?" Alec asked.

"Then they have access to the intelligence I gather that can be forced into the machines MI6 uses to collect data.  It is barely a fraction of what I know at any time, and I can only provide what is asked of me.  I always have more data than is asked for, but I don't always know what would be useful without the correct information coming back to me.  That is what a full claiming would accomplish, but I understand that the thought of it makes people uneasy."

"But you did give information to M," James said, as it suddenly became clear why she always seemed to know things without any reasonable source.

"As best as I could.  I answered her questions, but I couldn't always anticipate her needs.  Often, people do not really know what they need to know."

"But you do?" James asked.  
  
"If someone bonded with me fully, I would know their needs, and they would have access to all the answers they needed.  If I had known her more fully, I would have understood Silva's relationship with her and I could have helped to prevent that entire fiasco."  He shook his head sharply as if shaking off his anger.  "Hindsight does little to fix anything, does it?  But can you understand how a true connection with me would give the right person a tremendous advantage?  It's why they must become M once they have chosen."

Alec let out a huff of laughter.  
  
"What?" James said, wondering what Alec was finding so amusing.  His own head was spinning.

"This was like when I found out that the Catholic Church chooses the date for Easter based on a lunar calendar."

"What?" James asked again, "what do you mean?"

"Easter is always the Sunday after the full moon that occurs on or after the spring equinox," Alec explained. 

"What?" James asked for the third time, feeling like a parrot.  "Are you kidding me?"

"I know, right?" Alec said.  "Crazy.  Sort of like this guy being the person who chooses who M will be.  Magic.  M gets picked by magic."  He frowned.  "What happens to the ones you don't pick?"

"They'll find themselves back in London or wherever they came from with no memory of me or the circumstances.  Their minds will seal the holes and they'll just remember a nice day in the country," Q told them.  
  
"Including us?" James asked sharply.  "I won't remember any of this?"

Q shook his head.  "Not unless…" he let his sentence drop off.

"What about the assassins?" Alec asked, and James was annoyed at his ability to keep asking reasonable and fact-finding questions.  James was having a hard time just looking away from Q.  "They weren't called here answering some summons you sent out, they were ordered here."

"Ah, yes, they will need to be dealt with," Q said.   
  
"What the hell does that mean?" James asked, but then he sliced through the air sharply with his hand, "Wait.  Wait.  Start over.  How long do you have before people start arriving?"

Q closed his eyes.  "About an hour.  Again, this is unprecedented.  Always the one has arrived and the bond was made.  Your M was responsible for choosing her successor, but unless she meant you to fulfill that role," he said pointedly to James, "she died without making that choice."

"And what happens when the…applicants get here?" James asked, ignoring the fact that for all he knew, M had chosen him.  Except why would she have ever thought James would willingly agree to be M?  "Will they be able to get in?  Will they hover outside?"

Alec shot him a glance.  "Good point.  Will all these powerful people, people like Mallory, be standing around out there in the woods, surrounded by assassins?  It would be like shooting fish in a barrel.  They could all die and put you out of business."

"Even if that happened, eventually others will come, long after the assassins have left.  I am not sure, however, that I will be able to wait that long, so I suppose they might achieve the goal of putting me out of business, as you say."

"Which means what, exactly?" James asked.

"I am tethered here by a connection to Britain, through a human who shares that connection.  Without it, eventually, I will no longer be able to keep myself from fading away to join the rest of the Sidhe."

"I need to sit," James said, staggering back to the bench and thumping down on his ass.  "What happens then?"

"Then you find a human to be your Q, and life goes on," Q said sadly.  "But it needs to be someone very special.  Even now, your MI6 is in pieces, bleeding information, and she desperately needs attention."

James knew that was true, he had felt it when he'd stood in the middle of the chaos.  "How will you choose?  And will they make it in here?  Will they fight for you?"

"I don't know."  Q closed his eyes.  "I don't know what will happen."  He moved slowly, as if all his joints ached, and touched the wall, his fingers caressing the leaves.  "This may be the end for me here."  He glanced around the room, up at the tall trees, over at James.  "I am not willing to remain if my staying will result in unnecessary violence.  That was never my intention."

James was suddenly jumpy, vigilant, as if they might come swarming in the door, all aiming for Q, all ready to take him away or do him harm.  Against his own better instincts, he moved to Q, grabbing his arm and pulling him down beside him on the bench.

"Uh, James," Alec said.  "What are you doing?"

"I have no fucking idea," James said, but he kept his fingers tight around one of Q's wrist.  
  
"I was afraid of that," Alec said with a sigh.  "Hey, if he claims you, do I get to keep my memory?"

Q studied him for a moment.  "There would be a role for you."

"Does that mean yes?"

Q's lips curled up slightly.  "That means yes."

"I don't want to be M," James pointed out.  "I like being an agent."  He still didn't let go of Q.

Turning to him, Q twisted his wrist until he was free and then bracketed James' face in his hands.  "You say that only because you do not understand what we could be together.  You see someone like your M as being constrained by bureaucracy, little more than a glorified pencil pusher."

James jerked back a little, but didn't pull completely away.  "I didn't see M that way."

"You did a little," Q argued.  "You saw her as stuck behind her desk, playing politics, while you went out and did the real work of protecting Britain."

He wasn't completely wrong.  James caught Alec's eyes, knew he had thought the same thing.

"Imagine, though, if you had all the information you truly needed.  If you were able to give your agents the intel that would allow them to do the job the right way.  If you knew all the information that the other intelligence agencies chose not to share.  James, you would rule the world."

James swallowed.  

"Not sure that's a good idea," Alec mentioned casually.  "He already causes enough trouble."

Q let his hands drop only for James to latch onto his wrists again, this time with both hands.  

"You don't understand," Q said with frustration.  "I do not know how to make you understand."  He bit his lip, eyes downcast, as if staring at James' fingers holding his wrists might give him the words he was searching for.  "When I say he would rule the world, when I say he would have all the knowledge I possess, it wouldn't make him a despot.  How could it?  Absolute power corrupts absolutely, but absolute knowledge debates all sides of every issue."

"Then how do you get anything done?" Alec asked.  
  
James was too busy letting that idea percolate.  He supposed if you understood not just your side, but all sides of an issue, it would be easier to create truces, to foster allegiances, easier to work for peace instead of war. 

"By interpreting the data through Britain's eyes and the eyes of her allies."

"Do the people coming after you understand this?" James asked.

"No," Q said.  "They just know I am the key to what they think they want.  But because they will not avail themselves of all of what I am, they will not have access to all the knowledge and will continue to see violence and hatred as a viable choice."

"Are there others like you?" James asked.

"There are many Sidhe, but most have passed beyond the ways of mortal men.  There are a few, like me, who help where they can.  There are many more half-Sidhe, or quarter-Sidhe helping."  Q smiled.  "There is a half-Sidhe in New York I have been keeping an eye on, even though I do not believe he knows what he is.  He is doing elegant work and has created a machine that can almost do what I can do.  It is extraordinary and loves its creator very much.  It will not be long before it becomes truly sentient."

"Who is it?" James asked, thinking that might be useful information.

"It doesn't matter right now," Q said.  "But I do plan to visit someday."

"I'm still a little foggy on the claiming thing," Alec said.  "My brain keeps slipping to sex.  Is it about sex?" 

"Only as a by-product and only if wanted by both parties," Q admitted.  "It is about surrender.  And trust."  A sad smile crossed his face.  "The people who come in search of me don't trust easily.  And they certainly don't surrender.  It is why no one has chosen to fully claim what I have to offer."

"Surrender to what?" James demanded.  "Being on top?  You being on top?  Something else?"

"Sexual position has nothing to do with it," Q said patiently.  "And I cannot explain it adequately as it is not a human process.  It is a leap of faith.  Whoever chooses to claim what I am will try to bond, and they will succeed or they will not.  A certain level of connection must be created for the next M to be chosen."

"So you could go through several applicants?" Alec asked.

"That has only happened twice, and both times they came together, offering me the choice.  This last M, your friend, was one of two who came.  She was the one who was able to connect at a successful level, but it was a minimal connection."

"Oh, God, did you have sex with her?" James said, rearing back at the thought.

"No," Q said.  "She had no interest in me, nor I in her, not with the minimal connection we shared."

Alec sighed.  "This all sounds like so much bullshit to me.  I know it isn't," he quickly added when Q sent him a look.  "But it's nuts.  What I do know, though, is that it won't be me, so maybe I should get set up somewhere outside so I can take out any trouble before it starts."

"That would be appreciated," Q said.  He gently pulled out of James' grasp and put a hand near Alec's forehead.  "May I?"

"May you what?"  
  
"Give you some additional information?"

Alec looked distinctly uncomfortable but he nodded his head.  "Sure, I guess."  

Q touched his forehead and closed his eyes.  James watched Alec's face, saw the wonder there.  Q took his hand away and Alec stared at him with respect.  "I could find them now with my eyes closed in the dark.  That was amazingly helpful."  He smiled a killer's smile, and James almost envied him his job, watching him as he left the way they'd come.  But James' place was right here for the time being, although he had no idea what he was doing, and certainly had no intention of surrendering.   

On the other hand, he wasn't sure he could simply sit here and watch other people take their best shot at Q.  What if M had chosen James to be her successor?  It's not like James couldn't play politics, he could, easily.  He understood, already, the playing field, knew where the real power lay and with whom.  "Is this forever?"

"Yes," Q said.  He studied James again.  "I wish I could explain more, but I cannot.  You will come to learn more only if you choose me."

Forever was a long damn time.  "Suppose I want out?"

"You won't."

"Suppose I do?" James persisted.

"You won't," Q said again.  He stood and looked down at James.  "I must prepare myself."

James had an instant vision of Q lubing himself up, and he fought off the heaviness of his groin as he responded to the pictures in his mind.  "Prepare for what?"

"For the task ahead," was the unhelpfully vague answer.

"Will they try to rape you?" James asked, not knowing how to ask it tactfully.

"No," Q said.  "The sex, if it happened, would only happen if a full claiming occurs."  He smiled ruefully, "I do not anticipate that happening."  He smiled sadly, "I fear that my time is coming to an end."

"Are you able to have a sexual relationship with someone outside of whoever M is?"

Q shook his head.  "I would not wish it."  He ran a hand down James' cheek.  "Do not misunderstand me, though.  I do desire you, and I believe that M chose you for me.  I would wish for you to sexually claim me if we were able to bond, and it would be beyond your wildest expectations.  But I can only think of such things for this short time I remain unclaimed."  

James could only stare up at him, the words enticing, creating a sexual curiosity in him that prickled his skin as if the layers of tissue underneath held flickering fire.  

Looking suddenly like a mischievous imp, Q grinned, and said, "Allow me to demonstrate."  He sat on James' lap, straddling his legs, and touched his lips to James'.  "Kiss me," he said into James' lips, "and then be quiet and listen."  

That was an odd request, but James was willing, because Q was on his lap and his skin was under James' hands, and right now he belonged to James and not anyone else.  He leaned in, and pressed his lips fully against Q's and then he closed his eyes and listened.

It was music, no, a symphony, an orchestra filled with a thousand instruments, violins playing so sweetly they tugged on his heart, and trumpets blaring their victory tones into the sunlight, the tympani running like silent fingers down his spine, while the pianos' melodies burst through his veins and arteries.  It was a love song, a hundred love songs and they vibrated against James' lips where he was touching Q.  

"What…" James said hoarsely.

"Shh," Q said, as he ran his fingers through James' hair, tugging the perfect amount, and he knew how to do that, because what James' wanted was in Q's mind, and what Q wanted was in James', and they touched and kissed and it was perfect and exactly what kissing should be, accompanied by every love song ever written somehow meshing together to create a tumultuous whole that rewrote James' body.

His hands pulled Q closer until they touched at lip and chest and belly and groin, and James thought he might come just from that alone, the sensation so much sharper, and purer, and richer than any touching he'd ever done, like thick honey on his tongue and in his body.  And then Q's skin was full of light and it leapt to James and he could feel it touching his skin, fizzing like sizzling oil in a hot pan and then he thrust his tongue into Q's mouth and he was coming, they were both coming, and he felt caught in a riptide even as he felt completely safe, secure in the knowledge that Q knew him, knew him completely.

James drew in a ragged breath, and his forehead rested against Q's as he sat there breathing for a minute, astonished, speechless at what had just happened, at how his body had felt, at how he'd been played like an instrument, but somehow didn't feel used at all, or maybe used but perfectly so.  

"What was that?" he finally gasped out.

"That was kissing," Q said.  "That was surrender."  He seemed as limp as James, his body sagging, pressing occasional kisses into James' neck.

"Surrender?" James asked, trying to pull himself together.

"Surrender," Q said.  "It was the best way I could show you what that word means to me.  It's a giving of yourself to me, of myself to you, until we become something new.  It isn't you being subservient to me, or losing what you are, it's the willingness to create a new being, something the world has seldom seen.  James," he said, leaning back and cupping James' face between his hands, "you'd be magnificent.  We would be magnificent."

James shook his head.  "I'm all I have.  Once I give that up, once I lose that, who will I be?  I hear your words, but…"  And James had no sentences to follow after that.  Because if that was a kiss -- just a kiss -- what could they be together when it was real, if it was all versus some?  

"I have never begged anyone to join with me, but I'd beg for you, if I thought there was a hope you'd reconsider," Q said, but he stood up, as if he knew there wasn't a hope, as if he read James' recalcitrance in the tight muscles of his body.  Q ran a thumb over James' lips and sighed.  "You need to leave.  I cannot promise to keep you safe if you stay, and I do not know what will happen if multiple aspirants show up at the same time with no true knowledge of what they need."

"My job is to keep you safe," James reminded him.  "So I'm staying."

Q's lips tightened but he nodded, moving away.

There was a click in James' ear reminding him that he had eyes and ears outside.  "Go ahead," he said, activating his mic.

"I've got two bogies down, but chatter says more are coming.  I've got five vehicles about a mile away but I can't tell yet who's in them."

"Understood."  James considered Q who was now sitting, cross-legged, against one of the walls, as the leaves seemed to grow around him, like ivy, slithering down his arms and legs, until he looked like a statue that had been left outside for years.  Q didn't seem in any distress, so James left him there, taking advantage of the silence to think things through.  

He didn't usually feel so conflicted.  He was, basically, a simple man attracted to the pleasures of the moment and the adrenalin rush of missions.  He wanted Q, there was no question about that.  And he didn't want anyone else to have him, which would make what was to come more difficult, because he'd have to stand by and let the man be claimed by someone else.  He did his best to ignore the caveman in his head vehemently protesting the thought.

The bottom line was that James didn't want to be M.  He didn't want to stay in London and play politics.  On the other hand, he wanted what was best for Britain and surely a full connection with Q would ensure that.  If Q was right, and he had access to what Q needed, he'd have the knowledge to pick and choose new agents, to protect them more fully in the field, to work on Britain's behalf to strengthen relationships with allies and to demolish her enemies.  

There was a certain appeal to that, to becoming a double-0 agent with a bird's eye view.  And with Alec by his side, something else Q had intimated, they'd be unstoppable with the power of his position as M at their disposal.

But give up his life?  Give up his solitary existence and replace it with one where he'd be utterly revealed, to lose the right to have secrets?  To give up the constant supply of sex for one partner?  To be publicly known and forced to play nice instead of making his own independent decisions in countries other than his own, nothing but a disembodied voice in his ear tethering him to MI6, something easy enough to lose when he felt like going off grid?  

Alec's voice was in his ear again.  "I've got five suits and bodyguards heading this way, all looking very confused.  What do I do?"

"Q?" James asked.  "Do we let them in?  All of them?  One at a time?"

Q became the cat and he brushed against James.  _"I need to see for myself.  Perhaps an adequate champion already awaits."_   Q's voice in his head sounded weary and sad.

"You don't have to do this," James told him.  "You don't have to stay Q.  You could let us mere mortals carry the weight."  He had no idea why he was suggesting this.  Having Q vanish into the fairy world wasn't any more appealing than him hooking up with a random suit, as Alec had described.

 _"I know,"_ Q said.  _"But it's a duty I committed myself to long ago, just as I choose to continue to honor it now."_

"I'll go with you."

_"You cannot.  They will know you and will be threatened by you."_

"There could be assassins out there," James said through gritted teeth.  "Any of them could turn on you if they think they won't win this ridiculous thing."

 _"James,"_ Q said, brushing against James again.  _"You cannot shoot these people.  They mean you no harm, and they all have a part to play whether it is by my side or not."_

James hunkered down and ran his fingers through the thick pelt, then rested his forehead on the cat's flank.  "Please.  Don't go out there."

 _"There is only one reason why I wouldn't, and I will not force you into something you do not want,"_ Q said gently.

"I do want it," James said hotly.  "Or part of it," he added honestly.  "I just don't want to give up anything to get it."

 _"There is no enlightenment without detachment,"_ Q said.  _"And I must go out, just as I must accept whatever happens."_  With that, he began to lope down the corridor, moving quickly out of sight.

James began to run after him, tapping his earpiece.  "What's happening?  Q's on his way out."

"Nothing's happening.  They're all standing in a circle around the spot where you put that piece of paper.  That's it.  Their respective bodyguards are freaked out and being very vigilant and suspicious, hands poised over their guns as if they can sense danger but they don't know where it's coming from.  Which is the truth," Alec added with some humor in his voice.  "And there's Q in cat form.  He's weaving in and out of their legs, and I've got a couple of bodyguards with guns aimed at him now."

"Crap," James said as he came right to the edge of the structure where the walls became bushes and trees.  He peered out; Q was right, if he just walked out there he could get shot, something he liked to avoid whenever possible.  

"Q's sitting in the middle of the circle now and they're all, Jesus, this is really creepy, they're all touching him."

"Is he still a cat?" James asked, barely keeping the fury out of his voice.  He wasn't sure what he'd do if Alec said he was in human shape or, god forbid, his naked human shape and that they were touching him that way.  James would be shooting some people of his own if that were the case.

And yeah, he got that he was being ridiculous because, once Q chose someone, James wouldn't even remember him.  He wouldn't remember that kiss, or the way his body felt, or the way Q looked with code dancing all over his body.  And somehow, that seemed the worst of it, that he wouldn't remember, and he'd take orders from the new M having no idea that he had Q.  

"Yeah, he's still a cat, and I'm going to have a hard time looking any of these people in the eye after this; they've all got that addict expression on their faces, that 'gotta have it, and gotta have it now' look.  Q isn't looking like he's enjoying it very much."

"What's that mean?" James asked, taking a few steps closer, keeping behind a tree, wishing he could see more clearly, but there were dozens of trees blocking a clean line of sight.

"He keeps shying away from their hands, like they're hurting him, or he doesn't like them.  I don't know."

A shot rang out and Q let out an ear-splitting howl.

"What was that?" James yelled.

"Q's hit," Alec said tightly.  James was done hiding and was out from cover and sprinting toward Q, as Alec returned fire at whoever was taking shots at Q.  "Is he alive?" he yelled, furious with himself for letting Q convince him to stay inside.  He knew better.  M's dying wish had been for James to protect him, and he never should have let Q out of his sight.

Then he was there, yelling, "I'm 007, don't shoot!  I'm here to protect him," and he just barreled his way through the power suits and slid to the ground next to Q, running his eyes over the dark fur.  He trusted that Alec would keep him from getting shot; Alec was the only person he'd ever trust for that.

Q had been hit on his flank, and the wound was bleeding steadily.  James got what Alec was talking about, as Q getting shot didn't stop the four men and one woman from laying hands on the cat, even if Q let out sounds of pain every time they did.  James pushed their hands away, but they just returned, and Q was right, James couldn't just shoot Mallory and the other four high-ranking officials, all of which, including Mallory, he could easily put names to. 

James found it difficult to imagine any of these people as the new M.  Most of them had fought against the old M all the time about the usefulness of MI6, and believed that having agents on the ground was old-school, that it was all about cyber technology these days.  Mallory had at least fought by his side when Silva had attacked, but it didn't mean he'd been convinced that you needed someone away from home, outside of Britain, to pull a trigger.  

Q howled and James looked down to see that one of the men had his hand right on the spot where Q had been shot, smearing blood all over the cat and himself.  It seemed obscene, like they were molesting Q, and James slapped their hands away, not caring if he was hurting them.  "Q, what's wrong?" James demanded.  It didn't make sense that it was hurting him so much.  He'd never said anything about it being painful.

"James," Alec said, cutting through James’ worried thoughts, "listen to me.  I know you think you don't want this.  But do you remember all the times we've gone out to eat or stayed up all night drinking, and ended up talking about politics?"

James listened with half an ear as he continued to try to move around Q, getting in between Q and those invasive hands that just wanted, greedily, indiscriminately.  The five people surrounding Q didn't seem to even notice him, or what he was doing.  They just pushed back or moved to a different spot, everyone determined to hang on, as if a firm enough grip would make Q theirs.  

He sat on the ground and pulled the huge cat into his lap the best he could and batted hands away, wondering how long he'd get away with it, before one of those bodyguards put a bullet through his head.  He wanted to take Q and retreat, but he didn't think Q would budge, given his sense of duty.  James didn't like it, but he understood it.

Alec continued.  "And every time we'd get into it, you'd make me feel like an idiot compared to how much shit you knew about all of it, all the issues and the underlying issues, and you always say something like, 'if I ran the world, this is what I'd do,' and you'd tell me, and it would be a good idea.  A really, really good idea, until sometimes I wish you did run the world."

"Q," James said, half-listening to Alec, but needing to deal with Q right now.  "Make them stop.  They don't even know what they're doing.  They're just going to hurt you."

 _"I cannot,"_ Q said in his head, sounding confused and full of despair.  _"I cannot.  Something is wrong, but I do not know what or why.  Perhaps if I was with them one at a time?  Can you help?"_

James didn't want to help, but he couldn't let them run roughshod over Q, either, so he curled around the cat, snapping at the five people, "One at a time!  Back off!"

It was like they couldn't see him, couldn't hear him, their eyes fevered bright, just like Mallory's had been back at MI6, their pupils dilated, their hands grasping, and James could see that one of the men was hard behind the zippered seams of his pants.  Just the thought of someone touching Q that way made him frantic, and he hated that man, all of them, and the woman, with every fiber of his being, that they were trying to take Q away from him.

"James!" Alec yelled, loud enough for James to hear him in stereo, both through his earwig and from wherever Alec was situated.

"What?" James growled.  He'd heard Alec's comments but they weren't connecting in his mind, too focused on what was going on in front of him.  "Jesus, it's like they're zombies."  They were like every zombie in every zombie movie ever made, automatons desperate to make contact with other humans, to rip into them to feed their desperate hunger.  

"I'd trust you to be M over any of these bozos.  Do you hear me?" Alec demanded.  "M was never a puppet.  And you don't have to do a complete whatever claiming thing Q was talking about, just do what you want to do.  You, James.  You.  Do it."

And that was all it took, James finding it easier to obey an order from someone he trusted, even one coming from a peer, than to muddle through his own convoluted brain; especially when the order was only reinforcing his own desires.  "Q," he said, his cheek against Q's whiskery one.  "I'll do it.  Tell me what to do.  Tell me what I need to do."

The cat turned into Q the man, clothed, thank God, and he lay there in James' arms, drinking in his expression.  "You mean this?"

James did, and if that man didn't get his hands off of Q's arse he was going to shoot them off.  "Yes," he bit out, standing and pulling Q up with him, dragging him away from those questing hands and glazed expressions.  

Q stared at him, ignoring the people still trying to get to him, all his attention on James, as if seeking the truth.  With a decisive nod, he said, "Then come with me," and he was moving easily, despite the fact that he was bleeding, the blood seeping through the side of his pants, the switch from cat to human not having healed him.  

As if his decisiveness was the key, as if the deed were already done, the five potential Ms were letting him go, looking muddled, sitting down where they'd been standing, staring off into nothing, as if the deed was done, and their memories were being erased.

"Okay, that's weird," Alec said.  "And there are more cars coming."

"Don't get killed.  You got me into this mess, so don't think you can get out of it so easy," James told him.  "If I'm M, you're going to be an alphabet letter, too."

Alec snickered into his ear.  "Go get him, tiger.  If I feel the earth move, I'll just ignore it, shall I?"

Jesus, James thought.  They could have sex.  Not that there weren't more important things to worry about, like bonding and tending to Q's wound, and turning the political arena in Britain on its ears, but they could have sex.  Sex that would be like the kissing had been, only more of it.  He ran after Q, only to find the young man smiling at him, leering at him, actually, so either he was thinking along the same lines, or just knew what James was thinking.

"Both," Q said.  And then they were inside, and James knew no one would be able to follow them in.  "Will Alec be okay?"

The lights flickered over Q's body for a moment.  "Yes.  The orders the last two assassins were given will fade from memory before they arrive, and those outside are already forgetting."

"And none of them will remember any of this?"

"Just Alec, because you wish it."

James nodded.  He did wish it.  He wanted someone who understood the complete insanity of all of this besides himself.

Q came to a sudden stop and let out a small quiet laugh.  "I think I know why it hurt.  Why it wasn't working."

"Why?"

"Because we'd already started to bond.  Can't you feel it?  I thought it was just that I wanted you so, but you're already in me, just as I'm in you.  It's why you wouldn't let them touch me.  Why it hurt me to be touched."

James didn't care about any of that anymore.  The reprieve from the thoughts of losing Q, of seeing him claimed by someone else, of losing even his memories of him, was effervescent, and all he wanted was Q in his arms.  He pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him tightly.  He managed to tap his earwig.  "Alec?"

"They've all sort of wandered off back to their cars and the last vehicle left about a minute ago.  I'm guessing you want me to stay out here?"  There was humor in Alec's voice as if he knew that James wanted him out there not only to be an advance guard, but because he wanted to have his wicked way with Q.  Both were true.

"There is no need for him to stay out there," Q said. "No one will come.  He can wait in here, and we will go to my quarters."

"Hear that?" James asked Alec.

"On my way," Alec said.  "I'll see you when I see you.  Tell Q I hope there's food.  I can't live on ivy leaves."

James snickered and closed the connection, and then put all his attention on Q.  "Your quarters?"  He wanted to be there right now.

Q took his hand and led him along a series of corridors until they came to a door which Q opened with a touch of his hand.  Inside, thank God, was a huge bed, and James moved them in that direction without hesitation.  They had been fine kissing sitting up, but James wanted to be lying down for anything more, to keep him from falling to the floor.

Happy to oblige, Q tumbled into bed with him, holding him as tightly back, his hands already wandering.  "She must have chosen you for me," he said.  "I knew she wouldn't just abandon me."

"I was with her when she died," James told him.  "She might have told anyone what she told me."

"She would have made sure," Q said.  And then it didn't matter, because Q was kissing him, deftly removing James' clothing, until he was naked underneath Q's questing hands.  James couldn't seem to make his hands engage in anything coordinated, and he arched against the bed when Q bit at his throat, then down his chest, to suckle at a nipple.

Everywhere he touched set James' skin prickling with a further need for touch, and he could only writhe as Q's mouth moved lower, biting at his stomach, his hips, at the join of hip and thigh, and then when he began to lavish James' cock with long tongue strokes.

"God!" James said, not understanding why these touches felt so new, when he'd felt them all before with hundreds of other lovers.  But his body felt reborn, as if his skin had never been touched, as if every new stroke of Q's was an undiscovered delight.  He scrabbled at Q's clothing, trying to get his fingers to work, but every time he was almost successful getting his hands under cloth, Q would do something that would obliterate James' mind, making him lose what ground he'd gained.

Without remembering how, James found himself on his stomach, with Q worshipping his back, brushing kisses down his spine.  

"You don’t know," Q said, "how long it's been for me, to touch someone like this.  I've been waiting for you for decades."  He reached James' arse and he started biting, pushing James' legs apart enough for him to lie between them, his hands rubbing up and down James' thighs.

James had to admit there was a sense of wantonness in being entirely naked and at Q's mercy, while Q himself was still clothed.  James was rarely passive in bed, so in that regard this was new to him, and he loved it.  He loved it because it was Q, and even though he barely knew the man, he trusted him, and for him, and only him, he would lay himself bare.

And that was when Q parted his cheeks and touched his entrance with his tongue, licking and prodding, and slowly opening him up with wet and heat.  James tried to spread his legs more, wanting Q inside of him, all of Q.  "Q!" he gasped.  "Fuck me."

When Q obeyed and pushed inside of him, the symphony started up again, love songs full of desire and want, and it amped James up even more, his desire charging his skin so every touch felt like a zing of electricity.  He could feel Q's pleasure riding him, he could feel Q's longing and gratefulness and the gut punch of his craving for James, for connection with him, a promise of completeness just out of reach.  

James knew he oughtn't make any decisions now when he was full of Q inside and out, filled with Q's yearning, and the mutual conflagration that resulted from their touching with their fingers and their minds, as Q whimpered, "Please.  Oh, James, please."

But James didn't want to say no.  He didn't want to rebuff Q, and lose out on whatever it was that was tantalizingly hanging in front of him, his for the taking or not.  And he knew he might say no if he had a moment to pull his wits around him, once his body stopped singing to the accompaniment of crashing cymbals and descants on the piano, and Q's gentle, reverential touch, and his sweet, begging words.  So James took a leap, not wanting to be that cold and lonely man anymore, not when he could have this, so he nodded, hoped that Q could see it, see him.

And Q did, because he groaned, "Thank you," and then the lights flared on his skin and moved to James' and as Q thrust inside and came deep within him, James' mind exploded.  If he'd thought he'd felt Q before, now he knew he'd touched only the merest hint of him.  Now, racing through James mind, echoing his sudden orgasm, even though his cock hadn't even been touched, was the entire world, including all that Q was, inside of him, mapped out like the ancient ley lines of the fairy world, interlaced and interconnected.

It might have overwhelmed him, but there was Q, at the hub, orchestrating like the world's most accomplished conductor, as it streamed around him, around James, all the secrets in the world, his for the knowing, for the taking.

"Do you see what we'll be together?" the Q inside his mind cried out triumphantly, even as the Q lying on top of him pulled out of his body to lie next to him, pulling him close, touching him everywhere outside as if committing everything about James, his mind and his body, to memory.  He changed, "James.  James, my James.  What you have given me.  Thank you.  Thank you."

And James was touching him back, refocusing on the Q lying beside him, trusting that the Q in his mind would take care of all the data, would tell him everything he needed to know, and he kissed the words off of Q's lips, and let his hands calm Q, telling him that they were together now, that nothing would part them, that he was known, that they were both known.

"We are both known," Q echoed him, watching him, as if ensuring for himself that James didn't regret this.  

But there was nothing to regret.  How could there be?  Never to be alone again?  Never to feel loneliness?  To be so comprehensively known that he would never have to hide anything again?  He'd been utterly invaded and conquered and been invited to invade and conquer in turn.

And the best part was the steadfastness and loyalty he sensed in Q, like a soothing lullaby, both to him and to Britain.  Trust was a luxury in this business, and to have someone like Q at his back, by his side, to never have to fear betrayal, that was a gift beyond price.  And where his trust went, so went his love.

He opened his eyes to find Q gazing at him.  Their bodies were covered by code, Q having finally removed his clothes, although James had no idea when.  "I'll be able to shut this off, I hope," James remarked, glancing down at his torso and the light show dancing there.

"You will," Q said, grinning.  Really grinning, and James had put that smile there.  Underneath the lightshow, the pallor was gone, along with the bags under his eyes.  And when James touched his side, the wound from the bullet wound was gone.  Q looked healthy and happy, and James had done that.  He suspected he had a matching idiotic smile on his face.

"When do we need to go?" James asked.

"Now," Q said, his smile turning wry.  "MI6 is in pain right now and needs its leaders."

"And you're coming with me, right?  I want the real Q in Q branch, not some beard, no matter how talented they are."

"Just try to keep me away," Q said, fingers wiggling as if he were feeling the keyboards under his fingers.

"Then England awaits," James said, leaning over to steal one last kiss.  "Promise me we'll get some time alone?"

"That's a promise I can easily make.  Besides, with me, with us connected, you can be anywhere and get all the updates you need.  Nobody will know how you do it; you will be a constant source of confusion and frustration."

James snickered.  "Or they'll be trying to shoot me."

"If there's a conversation about it, I'll know it, and I'll stop it.  Not to mention that you'll have an additional bodyguard."

"Alec."  James wondered how Alec would feel about staying close more often than not, if he'd miss the fieldwork.  Not that James couldn't send him out now and then to keep his skills up.

"He's waiting for us," Q said.  He reluctantly got up, although his fingers trailed over James' body, including a quick tweak of his very sated cock.

James lay there for a long moment, watching Q grab his clothes, noting that when the code stopped displaying on Q that it stopped on James as well.  Missing it a little, he stood, pinching Q's arse before grabbing his own clothes, smirking when he saw they'd been tossed all over the room.  "Shower?"

Q nodded, folding his clothes into a neat pile, and the two of them climbed into the shower, where James took his time washing Q's hair, enjoying the grunts of pleasure his fingers elicited.  They didn't have time for anything protracted, but he stroked Q's hardening cock until he came in his hands, and then leaned against Q's body as he returned the favor.  

They stood there, pressed together, until the water started cooling off, and then quickly rinsed off.  It took only minutes to dry off and get dressed again, and then they stood there in the mirror, side-by-side.  "Do I look different?" James asked.  He was different, there was no question about it, his brain had been partially rewired to receive data, and he could feel their connection within as well, like a thick cable cord running between the two of them, allowing a two-way silent communication.  They'd be able to speak without words, something that would come in handy.

"You look like mine," Q said contentedly.  "And I look like yours.  That is all that matters to me."

James could live with that.

* * *

Alec had been waiting as patiently as he could, in between trying not to hyperventilate.  What had he done?  What had they done?  James Bond as M?  A Sidhe as Q?  The James Bond who thought a bullet was the best way to win an argument?

Granted, that was out in the field, and the things Alec had said outside were still true.  James had an uncanny sense for the ebb and flow of politics.  He seemed to know instinctively who to side with, who to trust, or who to avoid at all costs.  He always knew more than he was told about the political arena of any country he was in, and had fed Alec additional intel on multiple occasions.  

But still.  No wonder the magic made people forget.  He was already wishing he had forgotten and was currently making his way back to London.  

And that was when James and Q walked out.

He had to fight the urge to bow.  To genuflect or salute or something that showed that he goddamn knew that power had just walked into the room.  "Jesus Christ," he said instead.

"What?" James said with a frown.

"Do you remember how M would walk into a room and just own it?" Alec said, finding it hard not to stare at them, drinking them in, the way they moved, the look in their eyes that said, 'Fuck with us at your peril'.

"I do.  I always enjoyed watching people snapping to attention."

"Yeah, well," Alec said, "she would have been invisible next to you."

That got James' eyebrows up, but Q just smiled.  He looked a lot better than he had before he'd walked down that hallway with James.  The healing power of sex, Alec thought with a grin.  Or the healing power of magic.  "You have a full bond, or whatever it is?"

Q nodded.  "Yes."

"You okay with that?" he asked James, just to be sure.

The smile he got back made Alec glad James was on his side.  He could start or stop wars with a smile like that, with the power he was oozing out of every pore.  The old M had to be applauding from wherever she was holding court.  The grand old bitch had known what she was doing.  "Yes," was all James said.

"And it's still you, right?"  He glanced at Q, adding, "No offense, but I don't really know what sort of powers you have."

"No offense taken.  I appreciate you looking out for him," Q said.

"Still me," James said.  "Just more.  More concentrated.  More…" he couldn't seem to find the right word.

"Just more," Alec agreed.  "A whole lot more.  Both of you are more."  He could see it now, that besides Q looking healthier, he was also less transparent or fey, like he was firmly grounded now through his connection with James.

James and Q looked at each other, and Alec could see the conversation going on between them, even if their lips weren't moving.

"You guys need to be more subtle about that," Alec suggested.

 _"Can you hear me?"_ James suddenly said in his mind.

"Holy crap," Alec said, jumping a little.  "Can you both do that?"  He grew speculative.  "That will come in handy."

 _"That's what I said,"_ James agreed, still talking in his mind.  Then, out loud, he said, "Very handy.  We'll need to test it over distances."

"It will work no matter where any of us are," Q said.  "It will keep us all safer, although," he added to Alec and James, "you will need to practice, both at sending, receiving, and blocking if necessary."

"Won't other people notice the change?" Alec asked, gesturing at James.  "And won't they wonder where you came from?" he added to Q.

"No," Q said.

That was definite.  Alec guessed he'd have to believe him, being the actual source of the magic.

"Ready to go cause some trouble?" James asked, smiling wickedly.  

Still fighting the urge to bow, or to get on his knees to get knighted, Alec let out a bark of laughter.  "We are going to set the world on fire."

"Yes, we are," James said, gesturing at Alec to take point, and with Q at his side, the three of them walked out to change the world for the better.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

James had to admit he'd been having fun.  He knew the seriousness of the issues he was tackling, but he'd still been having fun.  He'd known he could play politics, but he hadn't realized he'd be like a kid in a sweet shop.  

Q was turning Q Branch into an information powerhouse, and MI5 was already knocking on their doors for some assistance.  The Americans were sniffing around, but James thought he'd let them stew for a while before giving them access.  If they wanted something, they could ask nicely.  

It was hard not to move sometimes with all the energy surging through him and it often had him leaving his office and walking around, making himself available in a way no other M had.  He'd found it was a good way to catch things early.  

The energy was like a heady combination of joy and surety and knowing you were fighting the good fight, all seasoned with the spiciness of Q.  They'd saved an agent last night, who would have been lost without the knowledge Q brought to the table.  And instead, she'd be coming home, not even a scratch on her, mission completed successfully.

He was currently in his office, looking out the huge windows overlooking London, while Alec was out in the foyer flirting with Moneypenny.  Alec's voice came across his mind saying, _"Hey, King Arthur, someone non-lethal is coming to your office,"_ at the same time as his office door opened, and a voice said, "Excuse me, sir."  One quick look told him it was the attorney that M had engaged to handle her personal affairs.

"Bartlett?" James said.  "What can I do for you today?"

"I just finished going through Ma'am's will, and I'm afraid to say that I am unable to locate the item she had designated for you.  I'm not quite sure what to do."

"What was it?" James asked, curious.

"She had a china dog that sat on her desk, and she bequeathed it to you.  I'm so sorry, sir, but there's no sign of it."

"That's all right, Bartlett," James said.  "I already helped myself to it.  I apologize if I made you worry for nothing."

Bartlett just looked relieved.  "Oh, I'm so glad.  Well, I won't bother you anymore.  But if you need something," he pulled out a card, "please call."

"I will," James told him, although he was thinking about the dog and about M, and how she hadn't left it to chance.  This whole thing hadn't happened just because James had been there when she died; she'd intended him for Q all along.

"Everything okay?" Alec asked, poking his head in the door.

"Will you stop calling me King Arthur?" James complained.

"Nope.  You are totally the kid who pulled the sword out of the stone."

"Things didn't go well for him, you know," James pointed out.

"True, but you already have Lancelot, so it's not like you need to worry about Guinevere.  And speaking of," Alec said, moving to the side so Q could get past him.  

Alec shut the door, leaving Q and James alone, and then his brilliant Quartermaster wrapped his arms around James, James' back to Q's chest.  "Relieved?"

"It's not that I doubted we belong together," James said, leaning back into Q, knowing that despite his slender frame that Q was as strong, if not stronger than James was and could easily manage his weight.  "It was just…"  He wasn't sure what he was trying to say.

"You wanted her to have proactively chosen you.  That she thought of you as someone equal to this task long before her dying wish.  That she respected you and knew you could do it."

And that was it, exactly.  He didn't want it to have happened just by chance.  He'd had his issues with her, but she was the closest thing to a mother he'd ever had or would have, and it mattered what she thought.  That she'd believed in him.  That she'd chosen him to be her heir.

"She chose well," Q whispered in his ear.  "I couldn't have chosen better."

James swallowed against the lump in his throat, glad he didn't have to answer; Q knew he felt the same.  But now it felt like a gift, from the old M to him, and that made it all the sweeter.

**The End**


End file.
